The Saga Of The New Storms

This is an indefinite, surrealist, prose poem.

The salamander said a nice thing
to the dancer seen walking the hot
coals. As he turned the corner, the
animal left the brick wall behind,
but remembered to walk the coals

himself. The bale of rags had no
meaning for him although the
dancer, cooling her feet, remained
impressed by the fragments of words
bleeding through the rain.

Some of the sheets were protected
by the shelf. The salamander, wishing
he had the shelf, was using his own words.

Reviews

[Sami Khalil]

You are an interesting poet along with your writes...:)........................

[Doctor Uphoff]

You have a very interesting stage name, Joshua Deathdealer; it sounds adventurous. Thanks for your comment.

[joshua deathdealer]

Very interesting. I like the cutoff in the second stanza. Well done.